


the gray medalist

by thishasbeencary



Series: soulmate aus [3]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, Canon Compliant, Falling In Love, Fluff, M/M, Romantic Soulmates, Viktor is jealous of a pork cutlet bowl
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-22
Updated: 2017-03-22
Packaged: 2018-10-09 10:43:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,552
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10410363
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thishasbeencary/pseuds/thishasbeencary
Summary: As far as Viktor knew, you're supposed to see a burst of colors when you meet your soulmate, and see the colors forever (or until your soulmate dies). Viktor saw colors for the first time in a room only with Yakov, Georgi, Mila, and Yuri Plisetsky, watching a figure skating competition. And then the world continued to be completely gray until the Sochi Grand Prix Final. Either there was something wrong with him, or he was seriously misinformed about soulmates.





	

**Author's Note:**

> i'm going to over-complicate another soulmate au!! it's the color one, you know, the one where you see in black and white until you meet your soulmate, but with a twist~ basically, the first time you see your soulmate, you see colors for a few seconds, and then from there it depends on proximity and emotional bond.
> 
> come make friends with me!!! i'm on tumblr at [yoyoplisetsky](https://yoyoplisetsky.tumblr.com/) (sports anime side blog) or [cary-onmywaywardson](https://cary-onmywaywardson.tumblr.com/) and i am very friendly. <33

Someone really ought to explain to the world how soulmates worked better. When Viktor was young, he was found out that when you met your soulmate for the first time, your world lit up in a burst of color. He was well familiar with the shades of white, black, and grey that came before the color, though the people he’d met with soulmates claimed that his hair didn’t change. At least that was reassuring – he knew one thing about himself. His hair was really, truly gray. Great.

In theory, this sounded very straight forward and like anyone could understand how it worked.

In actuality, it was really fucking confusing. Because the first time Viktor Nikiforov saw color, he was sitting in a room with Yakov, Georgi, Mila, and Yuri Plisetsky. These were four people that Viktor had known all of his adult life, and even much of his younger life, so if one of them were his soulmate, he’d know by now (who would it even be?).

But here they were, sitting in a room, watching clips of their competitors, and Viktor suddenly realized what was happening. He stared wildly throughout the room, his gray hair flopping over his eye, and he smiled to himself – they were right. His hair didn’t change colors at all. He covered his mouth to hide his smile, trying to stay focused on the screen in front of him, but his eyes quickly moved from the Japanese competitor (Yuuri, Viktor remembered his name because Yuri had been so confused by it).

Instead, he looked to see if anyone else was in the room. Was Yakov training someone new? Was someone new on the staff at the rink that might have come in? Who was it? He felt Yakov lightly slap the back of his head, and Viktor looked back at him sheepishly.

“Pay attention, Vitya.  We’re moving to the next skater.” By the time Viktor had focused on the screen again, his –

Wait.

Why was his color gone?

Viktor stood up in a panic, making an excuse about having to go to the bathroom before _fleeing_ from the room, locking himself into the bathroom. Why was it gone? He had literally just gotten his color, why was it _gone_?

Viktor hid in the bathroom for nearly ten minutes, blinking again and again, but everything stayed the same. Viktor stared at the wall in shock, tears in his eyes. Twenty-seven years. He had waited twenty-seven years to see colors, and they had faded in a blink of his eyes. Had it even lasted a minute?

And he had no idea who it had been. Not that it mattered, since they were –

Holy shit had someone _died?_ Was there a dead body laying around somewhere? What had happened? How had it happened so quickly? Was it because they saw the colors, too, had they –

Viktor cut off the frantic train of thought and straightened out his hair, plastering his fake smile back onto his face as he walked back into the room with Yakov and the other Russian competitors.

His world stayed gray throughout all of the qualifiers, and Viktor pretended like it didn’t bother him, because no one knew. No one knew that Viktor Nikiforov had found his soulmate for a fraction of a minute before they’d disappeared.

He’d ask someone what it was like, but… talking about soulmates was usually kept fairly quiet. Not until they’d been together for a while did they usually share how they’d met, and movies romanticized it – apparently usually by switching between black and white and color. They’d romanticize it so soulmates had to find each other after meeting in a crowd of people – how they did it, Viktor didn’t know.

Viktor wouldn’t know.

He didn’t like romance movies because he never knew when they were soulmates until they said it aloud. He couldn’t see the burst of color when they found out, it all looked exactly the same. And, apparently, it always would.

Until he showed up to the hotel in Sochi before the Grand Prix Final. In that hotel, Viktor saw a group of other skaters standing around, their coaches helping them sign into their room, and he smiled, sticking by Yakov’s side, waving to the ones he knew, and pausing for pictures and autographs for the fans who noticed him.

And then, suddenly, he realized that he wasn’t seeing in shades of gray. His head shot up, looking around in shock. There were so many unfamiliar faces, and a few familiar, but… None he’d imagine would have been in the rink that day in Russia.

There was Chris, standing off to the side with his coach, who had already invited him out to dinner and back to his room to hang out that night (and Viktor had said yes).

Otabek Altin, who was newer this season, but this was far from the first time that Viktor had seen him. He had been to the rink in Russia a few times, but not the day that Viktor had first seen colors.

The Japanese competitor, his first time at the competition. He was nearly hidden behind his coach, staring down at his phone, like he was trying to pretend the rest of the competition wasn’t there.

Who was it?

Yakov didn’t know what was happening, and dragged Viktor up to his room before he could figure it out, and his colors faded gray again when he met up with Chris for dinner, and the world champion clenched his teeth in frustration, trying to ignore this whole situation.

At the competition itself, Viktor almost had a headache with how often his colors were fading in and out. When he was on the ice for practice, the colors were pretty consistently there, but as soon as he stepped off, his vision flashed back to black and white. During his performances, it stayed mostly black and white, but every so often when he glanced toward the area where the other skaters were, the colors hit him so hard he felt like he might fall.

Finally, _finally_ , the hardest competition of his life was over, and he was able to step off of the ice. He got gold, of course he got gold, and he took the medal with a wide smile, hoping that his soulmate would be there on the podium, but… Christophe Giacometti and Otabek Altin.

Instead of saying a word, instead of showing anyone how he felt, Viktor grinned widely, a grin meant for the rest of the world (and certainly not for himself), as he held his gray medal above his head once again. No one knew. They all saw it as gold, whether they could see the color or not.

But it was gray. The same dull shade of gray as jewelry. Gold was nothing.

After he was off of the ice, when they were getting everything ready to leave, Viktor dragged his bag down the hall, listening to Yakov and also talking to Yuri Plisetsky himself, before he caught Yuri staring at someone and turned around and –

Viktor stumbled for a second when he met the eyes of the Japanese man (a fan, Viktor thought, but he knew that he’d seen him competing, as well. He wished he could remember his name, but with everything else happening, it slipped his mind. He hadn’t paid much attention to this skater’s videos when Yakov had shown them), because the colors were so _bright_. The Japanese man stayed there, frozen as well, and after a second, Viktor raised his hand with a smile.

“A commemorative photo?” Viktor grinned at the skater. It would be his first picture where he could see everything for what it was, not gray. Sure, the rest of his pictures wouldn’t look gray any more, but this one would be special. A memory of when he’d met his soulmate. Surely, he’d understand and want the same. “Sure!” He took a step forward as the other skater took a step back, staring at him with wide eyes before disappearing, followed by an apology from his coach, and then Celestino disappeared to.

Had…

Had his soulmate just run away from him?

Chris came to his room before the banquet and found Viktor lying on his bed staring at the ceiling silently, nowhere near ready for the event that he was supposed to go to. His ceiling was gray, and dull, and stupid. Just this afternoon, had the other man not run away from him, he could have described (well, he could have looked up and then described) the colors that made up what was just a stupid shade of gray for himself now.

Chris stared at him in worry for a long moment before finally speaking up, “Are you actually planning on going to the banquet, Viktor? We’re supposed to be there in half an hour and people expect the gold medalist to show up.”

“Gray medalist.” Viktor didn’t remove his eyes from the ceiling, not wanting to look at the medal that he’d thrown on top of his luggage.

“What?” Chris sat on the edge of his bed in concern, and Viktor finally sat up,

“I don’t even know what gold is, Chris. I know it’s darker than silver and lighter than bronze, but it’s just… gray. They’re all just gray.” Viktor stood up, not caring that Chris was in the room as he stripped to throw on his suit for the banquet (gray, gray, gray).

“I mean, until you find your soulmate, I guess so. You’ve never had a problem with gray before.” Chris had known him for years, was well aware that Viktor didn’t have a soulmate yet. And, yeah, Viktor was okay with it. Viktor had never cared when he’d find his soulmate, he knew that it was bound to happen eventually. He just didn’t know it would be this gray.

“I have found my soulmate. And it’s still so gray.” Viktor turned to him, and Chris’s face had morphed into one of confusion, like he didn’t understand why this was such a problem. “I’ve seen the colors, and now they’re just… _gone_.”

“It’ll happen eventually, Viktor.” Chris comforted, patting his friend’s shoulder, and Viktor rolled his eyes, because what on Earth did Chris mean by ‘it would happen eventually’. You were supposed to see your soulmate, and then bam! Bright colors everywhere. There was no ‘eventually’ about it, if you’d already met your soulmate.

Viktor begrudgingly finished getting ready, following Chris down to the banquet, where things were already getting started. He drifted to Yakov’s side, plastering on his smile and just searching for a glimpse of the Japanese competitor – Katsuki Yuuri. He’d looked him up on his phone when he was supposed to be getting ready for the banquet.

It was nearly a full hour of faking laughter for the sponsors and fans that had shown up before Viktor looked down at his glass and saw the liquid in it wasn’t gray. And neither was the rest of the room. His head shot up, and he saw Katsuki Yuuri stumbling away from his coach, clearly having had his fair share of champagne.

Viktor’s mouth fell open when he walked straight to Yuri Plisetsky, who had managed to escape Yakov’s clutches and was standing off to the side, and demanded that they have a dance off. Viktor pulled himself away from Yakov, walking toward the action and _Yuri accepted._

He laughed in amusement, watching the two dance against each other, and taking plenty of pictures.

_And then Yuuri and Chris pole-danced._

Holy fucking shit. Viktor was pretty positive that he’d died and gone to heaven in that moment, because his soulmate was beyond beautiful, and sexy as hell, and when Viktor pretended to (was it really pretending?) swoon against Yuri Plisetsky, Yuri moved and let Viktor fall to the floor.

Viktor sat there with eyes wide, leaning forward to stare at Katsuki dancing with Chris, his eyes never leaving the scene (except to glance at his phone and make sure that it was getting enough pictures, because these were moments that needed to last forever).

Before he knew it, he was being dragged into a dance with Katsuki, who was removing more and more of his clothing as he went. Viktor threw his phone to Yuri, who rolled his eyes, but Viktor hoped that he would take pictures.

And he and Katsuki danced.

Viktor had never felt more alive than in that moment, where he could see what he knew was a red blush on Katsuki’s cheeks when he dipped down, their noses almost touching. The colors were bright, and vibrant, and Viktor felt alive.

So, when Yuuri came up to him, wrapped his arms around him, _ground on him_ , and begged him to be his coach? Viktor couldn’t even speak, staring down at his soulmate in his arms, trying to process how amazing Katsuki Yuuri was.

Honestly, Yuuri won that dance off before he even started.

Viktor begged Chris to send him every picture that he took that night, and his friend happily obliged when Viktor collapsed against him again after the banquet, the colors still bright in his eyes, and sighed, “That man is my soulmate.”

Yuuri disappeared before Viktor could find him the next morning. Yuuri didn’t call or email or in any way get in contact with Viktor. In fact, by the time that Viktor was back on the plan on his way back to Russia, his colors were completely gone again, and so was Yuuri.

Something was wrong with Viktor Nikiforov.

He tried to tell Chris his problem, but Chris just told him to be patient. How was he supposed to be patient when his colors weren’t showing up like they were supposed to? So many times now he’d had a burst of color that matched his soulmate, and every time they disappeared without a trace that they had ever happened.

He got home and hung his gray medal up with the rest of them, staring at the trophy case with a sigh, and just going and laying with Makkachin.

He got another gold medal at Nationals. And another at Europeans. And another at Worlds. Five time world champion gray medalist Viktor Nikiforov.

Maybe he should just quit skating. It wasn’t a rash decision like ‘oh I met my soulmate and now want to quit skating because he won’t talk to me’, but Viktor had been gradually losing inspiration all season, and now he just felt… empty.

He didn’t tell Yakov this, trying to be the world champion that he wanted, trying to be Viktor Nikiforov. When Viktor trained at the same time as other people, he stayed on his side of the rink, headphones in, in frustration flipping between two pieces of music, trying to get moves to fit them both. On Love: Agape and Eros. That was what was frustrating him, the fact that this was about _love_. About his soulmate, and here Viktor was unable to see colors and unable to choreograph anything that made sense to him.

He hadn’t had Yakov choreograph a program for him in seasons, and he wasn’t going to start again now. Months later, he skated off of the ice early on in practice, pulling his skates off and announcing he was going back to his apartment. Yakov called after him, but Viktor didn’t listen.

Maybe it was his time to retire.

He didn’t plan on returning to the rink for three days, but on the morning of his second day off, he opened his phone to thousands of notifications over all of his apps, all pointing to the same video. A video of Yuuri trying to skate his free skate.

Viktor stared at the link for nearly ten minutes before he grabbed his phone off of the charger, bounding over to his couch and opening the link. Makkachin took this as a sign to sit with him, and Viktor rolled his eyes, but let his puppy climb up, setting a hand into his fur and starting up the video.

And…

And holy shit.

Yuuri was beautiful. Even if he couldn’t land all of the jumps, he was unbelievable in the step sequences, and put way more emotion into it than Viktor ever could have. He looked like he had gained some weight since the Grand Prix, and that wouldn’t do if he was going to skate for the season, but Viktor could help him to lose that weight, because he _had_ asked him to be his coach.

This was like him asking again.

But there was no color.

Viktor had to go to Japan, to Hasetsu, to meet Yuuri again.

Yakov didn’t like this plan.

“You’re never going to win another medal if you run off like this, Viktor!” Yakov shouted after him, and Viktor spun around on his heels, not caring, because he _had_ to leave.

“Maybe I want to know what gold actually looks like, Yakov! What’s the point of winning another gray medal when that’s all there is in life!?” Viktor snapped at his coach when Yakov tried to stop him from leaving, and Yakov just stared at him.

“You think Katsuki is your soulmate?” Viktor calmed a little bit after Yakov had spoken, knowing at least that his coach had some idea of what he was doing, now. That was… reassuring, if nothing else. At least Yakov would know he wasn’t abandoning him for the sake of abandoning him. Yakov was so important to Viktor, and he wished that this wasn’t what he had to do – but it had to be this way.

“Yakov, at the banquet – “ Viktor started, but was cut off.

“Oh, for god’s sake, the banquet!? Vitya, why on earth would you follow this boy over the banquet!?” Yakov rolled his eyes, and Viktor found himself again wondering how soulmates worked, because why wouldn’t Yakov _know_. Why didn’t he know how bright Viktor’s world had been when Yuuri asked him to be his coach? Why couldn’t he understand?

“It was color, Yakov! When Yuuri spoke to me, when he was dancing, I could _see_! I could see that Yura’s hair is yellow, and Yuuri’s tie was blue, and my hair was gray, just like everyone says!” And when Yakov stayed silent, Viktor felt tears pricking in his eyes. “Yakov, you don’t understand. I want that again! It was all gray again, until I saw that video. Yakov, the _color_.” Viktor covered his mouth to hide a sob, and his coach just looked at him. “I don’t know why it’s like that. I don’t know why it keeps disappearing. I hate the gray.”

And that was when Yakov’s confusion faded until something more… sad? His coach took a step forward, set a hand on Viktor’s shoulder. “Has no one told you how this works, Vitya?” At Viktor’s pathetic shake of his head, Yakov sighed again. “I am going to drive you to the airport, and on the way there, we are going to talk. It’s still a decision you shouldn’t make, because you can chase after Katsuki any day, but you don’t have much time left to skate.”

Viktor nodded, dejectedly following Yakov back to the car, expecting to get an earful of how dumb he was being, and how he could never come back to skating if he did this. Maybe that was true.

“When you first see your soulmate, you get your first look at the colors.” Yakov sat down in driver’s seat, not looking at Viktor, but speaking. “After that, they come and go.” And suddenly Chris’s ‘eventually’ made more sense. Apparently, his friend knew more about soulmates than Viktor did.

Why had Viktor been so wildly misinformed? No one had ever explained it to him in detail, he always went off of context clues. From what Viktor could tell, and from what media portrayed, you met your soulmate, and you saw colors. There was none of this ‘come and go’, fading in and out, getting bursts so bright you almost feel hurt by the colors, followed by the total dullness of life before your soulmate that Viktor was living.

“Why?” Why had no one ever explained this to him? Why had he only ever been told that they all came at once, and they disappeared when your soulmate died? It had always seemed much simpler that way.

“It depends on how well you know your soulmate. Someone like you? Your soulmate may have seen you years ago, but you’ve only just found them. You only see those first colors for a few seconds, and then they’re gone until you’re physically or emotionally close to your soulmate.”

“Oh. But… do we still get the burst?” Viktor asked, fiddling with the strap of his bag, wishing his hair was long still so that could be another thing to keep his attention from the reflection of his coach glaring out the window.

“The burst?” Yakov sounded confused, and Viktor sighed.

“You know, all at once, forever? All the colors just there all of the sudden, never to go away!”

“Some do. If you properly fall into sync and are actually meant to be.” Yakov spoke in a strange tone, one Viktor didn’t recognize. Regret? “If you manage to be emotionally close enough that you’ve both accepted you’re soulmates and you love each other. Even then, they go in and out if you’re fighting.”

“Why does no one say that? Why do they just say that you get all your colors at once?” Viktor complained, falling back against the seat. He had to go back to Yuuri, he had to get this, he had to have his soulmate.

“Because it’s simpler that way. Most people do get their bright colors at some point. But more often than not, being with your soulmate is still a whole lot more gray than anyone ever cares to admit.”

“Can your colors disappear completely before death?” Viktor murmured quietly, finally looking up to see the reflection of Yakov’s face harden into a glare toward the road.

“They can.” Yakov was silent, still not turning to look at Viktor, and Viktor chewed on the inside of his lip, wondering if he could dare ask Yakov his last question.

“Yakov?” Viktor’s voice was quieter than it had been toward his coach in a long time, and he could see the airport in front of them, could see that they were almost there. He was still going.

“What, Vitya?” His coach seemed to know what Viktor was planning (that his plans hadn’t changed), and his voice still sounded angry, but Viktor had to know.

“What do you see?”

“Blackness.” Yakov said no more on the subject, stopping in front of the airport. “I assume you’re still leaving.”

“I’m sorry – “ Viktor started, about to cry again, and Yakov rolled his eyes.

“Don’t apologize now. Apologize when you come back from Japan. Apologize when it doesn’t work out like you’re dreaming it will.”

“Yakov, he’s my soulmate. Why wouldn’t it work out?”

“Viktor, life’s not always a happy fairytale story.”

“It will be.”

“Just go. And don’t you dare think of coming back until you’re on your knees begging to return to me.”

“Goodbye, Yakov.”

Yakov said nothing in return, and as soon as Viktor had grabbed his luggage, his coach drove away, not even looking at him. And Viktor was… alone. Completely alone. He’d always had Yakov, but now he had nothing until he found Yuuri.

But Yakov was _wrong,_ he had to be. There had to be a happy ending for himself and Yuuri, he knew that he could do it. After all, Yuuri had skated his program, he was calling for him to come to Japan, to coach him. He’d begged for it at the banquet!

When he got off of the plane, Viktor realized a vital mistake in his plan of coming to Hasetsu to train Yuuri. He knew… basically no Japanese. The Russian man stood in the airport, his hand on the handle of his suitcase, staring blankly at the signs in front of him as people rushed around, blurs of gray on either side.

But, well, he was probably in the right place, because after aimlessly wandering for a few moments, he came across a wall plastered in posters of Yuuri’s face. Viktor stared at them in shock, squinting at them, glancing around until he saw a shop.

And it was definitely necessary at that very moment, lost in an airport in Japan, to walk into the shop and buy one of the posters of Yuuri. Completely necessary. Something that definitely needed to happen.

But it, actually, turned out to be a good thing.

“A fan of Katsuki’s?” The person working the register asked in English when it was clear that Viktor didn’t understand Japanese, and Viktor grinned widely.

“I am! I’m a figure skater myself, and I am going to coach him. I plan on staying at his family’s hot springs. Where is it? I don’t know any Japanese, and can’t read the signs.” He admitted, and the man smiled at him, going on with praises of how well Yuuri had down for their town, getting out a map and drawing out directions that Viktor could clearly following, writing them in English on another sheet of paper.

Viktor grinned in thanks, taking the map and the poster and walking from the airport, bouncing with excitement. He wished he knew how to get into contact with Yuuri so that he knew that he was coming to Japan. He knew that his soulmate had been training in America under Celestino, but he had told him to come to Japan when he asked him to visit during the banquet, so that probably meant that Yuuri was there, right?

He’d read that Yuuri had broken off from Celestino, and no one was sure of his next coach, so maybe that meant he’d returned to Japan. Just… as long as he wasn’t still in America. That would be unfortunate.

Viktor lead Makkachin with him to the hot springs, where he was greeted by another Japanese man, who spoke only halting English, and a younger woman, who stared at him for a moment before smiling, and helping the older man sign Viktor in. Viktor smiled as they offered to watch Makkachin before walking back to the hot springs.

Now he just had to wait for Yuuri to arrive. He was going to be excited, Viktor was sure, and he grinned at the idea of it. At the idea of seeing his soulmate again, at getting those colors back. And he knew he might still have some gray in store for him, but if Yakov was right…

Well, Viktor couldn’t wait until the colors were there to stay.

He wasn’t in the hot springs for long before someone came bursting in, and Viktor grinned when he saw who it was.

“Yuuri!” Yuuri’s eyes snapped open, and he looked _shocked_ , and Viktor grinned, blinking a few times to adjust to the color filling his vision. “Starting today, I’m your coach! And I’ll make you win gold at the Grand Prix Final!” He grinned, and Yuuri was so excited he –

Oh.

Viktor spoke too soon, because, apparently, he had not had the effect that he wanted, and Yuuri yelled out, and ran from the hot springs, cutting the color out of Viktor’s vision immediately.

And that was how he acted, like he didn’t even know Viktor, even though Viktor _knew_ that he had to, he knew that Yuuri was seeing the colors too. So why was he acting like Viktor was a total stranger?

Why was he acting so withdrawn? Even if Yuuri had been drunk enough to forget the banquet (a possibility Viktor hadn’t considered to that point, but, well… okay, it was a possibility), he couldn’t be _this_ shy sober. Shy enough that he could barely talk to Viktor without stammering and blushing. And running away.

Viktor looked at the pictures from the banquet on his phone that night, a hand curled in Makkachin’s fur. They were _gray_ , and they were _dull_ , and they were _stupid_ , and Viktor felt tears leaking from his eyes as he turned his phone back off, shoving it away from his face and going to sleep.

Yuuri still seemed uncomfortable around him the first few days, but at least when they were in the same room, Viktor could see in color.

And then Yuri Plisetsky showed up.

And Viktor hadn’t _meant_ to ignore his promise to the other Russian skater, but with everything else happening, well, he’d forgotten. And Yuri made that clear, and Viktor tried to ignore the fact that every color in his vision seemed much more dull with Yuuri focused on Yuri instead of on Viktor.

Maybe he should’ve given Yuuri _Agape_ after all, and worked to unlock his pure love, so that Viktor wouldn’t have to keep wondering about when this might happen. But, well, he’d wanted to see Yuri Plisetsky do _Agape_ more, and had felt a little strange with the idea of assigning a fifteen-year-old a program about sexual love, so he’d assigned it to his soulmate.

Who dedicated it to a pork cutlet bowl.

Not to, you know, Viktor Nikiforov. You know, his soulmate? You know, the man he’d ground against and pole-danced for at the banquet the past year? You know, the man who desperately wanted Yuuri to fall in love with him and for them to live a happily ever after? That man? No. Pork cutlet bowl.

Viktor wanted to scream when Yuuri announced that, and instead he uncomfortably smiled, and told Yuuri they’d work with it. And _, maybe_ , he put a little more emphasis on the pork cutlet bowl than he should have in training.

He wasn’t _jealous_ of the pork cutlet bowl (Yuri Plisetsky had smirked when he walked through his room to go to bed one night, making a joke about how much better pork cutlet bowls were than Viktor. Yuri Plisetsky didn’t even _know_ that Yuuri was Viktor’s soulmate. Viktor made sure that Yuri knew that Viktor _was not jealous of the pork cutlet bowl_ ).

Viktor was just glad after Hot Springs on Ice that he could honestly pick Yuuri as the winner, even if he felt bad to see Yuri go. Maybe, after this season, if he could work out the whole soulmate thing with Yuuri, he could help Yuri next season. That would work, right? He did want Yuri to succeed, and expected that he would, even without Viktor training him, but…

Well, he still felt bad.

But there were more important things to deal with.

Such as the fact that his soulmate was skating a program about sexual love while thinking about pork cutlet bowls.

And, look, Viktor didn’t need to have sex with Yuuri, okay, that was _fine_. It was _fine_ that Viktor and Yuuri weren’t having sex, but, _really_ , a pork cutlet bowl?

Oh, yeah, and the fact that his soulmate wouldn’t accept that he was Viktor’s soulmate even though Viktor had been seeing colors every time he was in the same room as Yuuri. That was also frustrating.

He hugged Yuuri before his first competition with the programs they’d planned, and Yuuri had lit up red, and Viktor had smiled. Did that mean that the program wasn’t about pork cutlet bowls anymore?

Viktor didn’t bother asking, he could hear the announcers speaking about how it was.

That didn’t matter, because he could see it all in bright color. He _was_ a little disappointed that the costume Yuuri had chosen was black and gray, the colors that he could see before this had started. Sure, the contrast against his skin was better than just the grayness of the skin against the grayness of the costume that had been Viktor, but…

His free skate costume was better. It was _clear_ that Yuuri could see the same colors, because the way that they shimmered together, Viktor couldn’t take his eyes off of him. And he deserved the first place that he won.

Viktor just wished there was a gold medal, so he could really see one.

Yuuri spoke Japanese at the press conference, and Viktor stared blankly at the gray screen as it flickered into the colors, trying to figure out what was happening. Had Yuuri said they were soulmates? Had something changed? Yuuri wasn’t here, so why the hell could Viktor see the colors?

Yuuri later explained to him that he’d said his season was about his love, and he didn’t mention whatever he’d said about Viktor, but Viktor smiled anyway, because he could imagine. Yuuri smiled back at him, and it was so good.

And it was so good.

Until China.

And, in China, Viktor learned that Yuuri’s anxiety wasn’t exactly a small thing they’d seen in the Chugoku, Shikoku, and Kyushu Championship. Oh, no, no, no. Yuuri had terrifying anxiety that had him not sleeping before the competition, and had him nearly wincing with the screams. The colors flickered in and out, and Viktor dragged Yuuri away from prying eyes to the parking lot, where he did the only thing he could think of.

“If you mess up today, I’ll take responsibility and quit.” He promised, and Yuuri stood frozen in front of him.

“Why would you say that?” And then the tears started to flow, and Viktor’s mouth fell open in shock as all of the colors drained away. Yuuri Katsuki was right in front of him, looking him in the eyes, and all Viktor could see was gray. He covered his hands with his mouth, trying to come up with an apology, and just made things worse.

“Should I just kiss you?” The tears fell faster, and Viktor thought Yuuri was going to leave, that he was going to lose his soulmate, and the last of the color drained away, leaving Viktor with the nothingness that his life had been until this point, before Yuuri was finally speaking.

“Just have more faith in me than I do!” And Viktor stared at him, his own heart breaking, and wished he knew what Yuuri was seeing. Was his world colored? Were they both standing in mutual gray as Viktor wrapped his arms around him?

The world was still gray when they went back up for Yuuri’s turn, and Viktor tried not to let it affect him, but guilt swam through his mind, trying to come up with something to make the colors come back. Had he messed up this badly?

They came back when Yuuri started teasing him, though, and Viktor lit up, watching him perform. The colors were dulled, but they were there. He hadn’t lost Yuuri.

Except maybe to the pork cutlet bowl that the program was still dedicated to. Viktor sighed as he watched his soulmate skate. Yuuri was enticing, but not for Viktor. For his favorite food. Viktor felt like collapsing onto the ice at the thought of it. He didn’t, though, and the lasted to the next day.

The next day?

Um.

Well.

There was the burst Viktor had wanted.

Yuuri skated his free program with such confidence, and then… And then he added in a quad flip. Viktor’s move, clearly speaking to his coach, and it wasn’t landed perfectly, but it counted, and it didn’t matter, and when Yuuri’s hand pointed to Viktor, Viktor covered his mouth in shock.

And his only thought was that he couldn’t do anything but push Yuuri onto the ice and kiss him then and there.

When they separated for Yuuri to change before they went back to the hotel, the colors remained, and Viktor stood shocked in the arena, listening to everyone talking and cheering, and everything else that had happened. Not only had he found his soulmate, but, now, the colors were there to stay. They had both accepted it, accepted that they were soulmates, and Viktor touched his fingers against his lips with a shocked smile still on his face.

Yuuri never failed to surprise him.

Like, for example, when he walked back out in his normal clothes, reached Viktor’s side, and leaned up to kiss him again, smiling against his lips before taking his hand and basically dragging Viktor out and back to their hotel.

Yeah. So. Viktor had definitely died and gone to heaven.

RIP Viktor Nikiforov: His soulmate kissed him and it was so good he died.

And then they were in Russia, and Yuuri was telling Viktor to go back to Japan to take care of Makkachin, who was sick, and Viktor knew that he had to and did the only thing that he had to. He kissed Yuuri, promising he’d be right back before running after Yakov.

“Yakov! I have to go back to Japan, Yuuri’s family called and said that Makkachin ate something that she wasn’t supposed to, and I need to go back to her, and it’s right now, and Yuuri won’t let me stay, please coach Yuuri tomorrow.” Viktor wrapped his arms around his coach, and Yakov stared at him in shock.

“One day.” Yakov finally agreed, and Viktor hugged him tighter in thanks, knowing what this must be for his coach, who had had to deal with this in the beginning, before Viktor had any idea of what was happening.

After assuring Yuuri that he’d be fine, and kissing him a few times (until they were both able to laugh, despite the stress and anxiety on both of them), Viktor finally stepped away, walking from the hotel. He kept his eyes closed for a long moment in the airport, expecting the colors to fade away, as they had every time that he was this far from Yuuri, but they didn’t, and Viktor smiled.

At least they had that. Yuuri had the comfort of knowing that he still had Viktor, even if Viktor was all of the way in Japan while Yuuri was in Russia without him. Wow. Times had changed.

They met again in the airport after the competition, and Yuuri wrapped his arms around Viktor, allowing Viktor to do the same, hugging his soulmate close to himself. “My colors stayed the whole time.” It was the first mention of their status as soulmates allowed, and Viktor almost whispered it, feeling Yuuri nod against his shoulder.

“Be my coach until I retire,” He begged, and Viktor held him tighter against himself, closing his eyes and nodding.

“Almost like a marriage proposal.” It was in response to their two statements together, and Yuuri seemed to know, smiling at him.

And then it got a step better when there really was a marriage proposal, and Viktor saw gold for the first time close up. It wasn’t a gold medal, it was something better. It was Yuuri’s hand slightly trembling as he pushed a ring up Viktor’s finger and murmured something about it being in thanks, but they both knew what else it meant. His first gold he saw up close was when he did the same to Yuuri, making him promise to skate the best programs he ever had the next day.

The first gold he saw up close was pretty damn amazing, actually.

And turned gray after a day.

Yuuri skated his short program well (even if it was still about the fucking pork cutlet bowl), but he seemed anxious the rest of the day, and Viktor watched him curiously, but let him do his thing. He knew that Yuuri did better when he let him think through everything himself, and he wasn’t going to push his soulmate into anything that might make him uncomfortable.

Which was why he simply smiled and agreed when Yuuri told him that they had to talk later.

What Viktor wasn’t expecting was what Yuuri had to say.

“After the Finals, let’s end this.”

And immediately, the world went gray as Viktor felt the tears welling in his eyes, and the lack of color just made them fall faster, trying to understand what Yuuri meant. Why would he want to end this?!

A fight later, they decided to talk after the competition tomorrow.

His sight stayed gray the whole night, and still was when they showed up to the rink for his free skate. Viktor stood at the side in silence and watched Yuuri, chewing on his lip as his soulmate practiced before seeking out Yakov, begging to train under him again.

Yakov reluctantly agreed, and Viktor was smiling as he walked back to Yuuri, who made his quadruple flip unbelievably, and then straddled Viktor right then and there and begged him for another season.

Even with the colors still missing from his vision, how could Viktor refuse?

It wasn’t until Yuuri’s exhibition skate that they came to understand each other again, and the colors came back. They were standing behind the rink, talking softly while they helped each other fix up the costumes. “I meant as my coach.” Yuuri finally whispered. “I thought you were bored of coaching me, and I felt like I was taking you away from the sport, but I don’t want to ever lose you. I meant… as my coach, I thought it should end. I’m sorry.”

“I…” And how had Viktor imagined anything else? He kissed Yuuri softly, for the first time since they’d fought, and his soulmate (his fiancé) rested his hand against Viktor’s cheek, the cold metal hitting his heated skin, as he kissed him back.

And it was all okay, because when they opened their eyes to pull away and begin to skate, the world was bright again, full of the colors that they had gotten so used to.

The skate went beautifully, but they didn’t dare announce that they were soulmates, and Viktor understood now. Everyone wanted to wait until their colors were stable, probably. They wanted to know that they weren’t going to scare their soulmates away, or something. He was dying for the world to know that Yuuri was his, but… well, they let the skate speak for them.

When they got back to Japan, Viktor and Yuuri settled into Viktor’s room together, unpacking their bags. When Viktor reached the medal, he turned it over in his hands a few times, smiling to himself. “We’re going to eat pork cutlet bowls tonight.”

“I didn’t win.” Yuuri looked at him curiously, and Viktor just laughed again, shrugging.

“Looks the same as the rest of them, doesn’t it?” He holds it up for Yuuri to look at, and his fiancé only stared at the medal in confusion.

“It’s… silver.” Yuuri took it from Viktor, turning it over and over in his hands as if something would show up on it and reveal to him what the hell Viktor was going on about.

Viktor looked at the silver medal and a laugh escaped his mouth, taking it from Yuuri’s hands to admire it. “It’s a gray medal.”

“… what?”

“It’s gray. Even with color, the medal is gray. All of this time, and the first medal I see is gray.” Viktor was laughing almost hysterically now, while Yuuri stared at him, probably worried for Viktor’s sanity.

“I’ll win gold next time.” Yuuri clearly didn’t understand his point, but Viktor still smiled at his promise, leaning in to kiss him.

“I’m sure you will.” Viktor kissed him back, and, admittedly, was distracting by kissing him for nearly ten minutes before he pulled away again, reluctantly. “Let’s get a pork cutlet bowl to celebrate your gray medal, Yuuri.”

Yuuri didn’t question why that made Viktor so happy.

Viktor chose to rejoin the season in time for Russian Nationals, so they moved to Russia together so that Viktor could train under Yakov again. Their colors still came and went as they adjusted to living with each other. Every time they got into even a minor fight, everything would go gray for a few hours, and Viktor would just stare around his house in shock and horror until he was able to fix whatever had happened with Yuuri, because he _never_ wanted his life to be completely gray again.

Viktor got silver at Nationals and Europeans, placing underneath Yuri Plisetsky both times, much to his frustration. Worlds would be different, he decided. He’d get his first gold medal after worlds.

Before his short program at Worlds, Yuuri grabbed his tie, looked him in the eye, and said, “This is for you.”

And Viktor almost fainted, because that was all of the acknowledgement he needed. Screw you, pork cutlet bowl! He was Yuuri’s sexual inspiration now.

Not that he’d ever been jealous of the pork cutlet bowl.

Yuuri was his soulmate, after all. Not the pork cutlet bowl’s.

Oh, yeah, and at Worlds, Viktor saw his first gold medal. It wasn’t his own. His was still gray, even now that he could see colors.

He was surprisingly okay with that when Yuuri hung his gold medal over Viktor’s head and kissed him, twining their hands together. “You’ll marry me now, right? That _is_ a gold medal, after all.”

“Not gray at all.” Viktor had agreed, and Yuuri just rolled his eyes at his soulmate, accepting that as a yes. And it was. Viktor kissed Yuuri again just be sure that Yuuri knew that was absolutely, completely, and totally a yes.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you sososo much for your continued support on this and others of my fics, your comments/kudos/bookmarks are amazing <3 
> 
> come grab me on tumblr if you want to talk or make me write. <33


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